


The Seat of Sundered Kings

by queenseamoose



Series: Daughter of the Dawn [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls I: Arena
Genre: Gen, Pre-Arena
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-05-28 19:58:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15056657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenseamoose/pseuds/queenseamoose
Summary: In 3E387, a young woman arrives in the Imperial City with dreams of joining the Imperial Guard. Dodging the expectations that come along with a famous father, she fights to forge her own path as she ascends through the ranks. But when she strikes up a friendship with an enigmatic sorceress, she is swept up into a plot of high treason that threatens to destroy everything she loves and unmake the very Empire itself.





	1. The Arrival

“A moment,” Joric called as they reached the outskirts of the village. Only the open road remained before them--and beyond that, the towering stone pillars of the bridge. “Ride down to the shore with me.”

Sabine obeyed, gently tightening the left rein to guide her horse off the road and down a small worn footpath leading to the shore. The sun’s morning rays were already sparkling off the surface of the lake, but behind them to the west, a few faint stars were still visible against the skyline. She stifled a yawn, still blinking the last of the sleep from her eyes.The weeks of sleeping on the hard ground and rickety cots in wayside inns were taking their toll, and she was looking forward to a real bed tonight.

Ahead of her, Joric had stopped along the shoreline, and she rode up to halt beside him. He gazed out over the water, the glow of the sun on his hair and beard making his face appeared to be wreathed in fire. “Take a look,” he said sweeping his hand outward. Across the water, the city rose up out of the island, dark in its own shadow with the tower ascending a dizzying height to pierce the sky. “There is only one chance to see it for the first time,” Joric said, his brow wrinkled in a thoughtful expression. “And sadly, I hardly remember mine. I had a small command at the time, my very first. A great honor, but still, a distraction.”

He sighed, eyes refocusing as he turned back to her. “You must be careful, Sabine,” he said seriously. “It is very different on the inside. The Elder Council is a pit of vipers, and the rest of the city is no better.”

Sabine felt a quick flutter of nerves deep in her stomach, despite her earlier excitement. This was her dream, she reminded herself. She’d wanted this ever since she was a little girl. As if sensing her apprehension, Joric’s gaze softened.

“Things will change once you are part of the Watch,” he reminded gently. “We are Legion first. We will have our separate duties, and you will report to your commander.”

“I know,” she whispered. She nervously threaded her fingers through her mount’s mane.  

“But I am still your father,” Joric added. “You can always come to me. No matter is too insignificant.”

Sabine merely nodded, gazing out across the water at the city. She’d prepared for this since childhood, mind and body, and now it was finally time. _But what if I can’t do it?_

“Sabine?” Her father’s voice cut through the whisper of fear, and when she turned back to him, an expression of concern had etched itself onto his face. “How are you feeling?”

 _Like I’m going to throw up._ But instead, she took a deep breath and forced a bright smile to her face. “I’m ready,” she said, feigning a confidence she in no way felt, and if Joric picked up on it, he gave no indication of such.

“Good,” he said briskly. “I am proud of you. Do you know that? And not simply because you are my daughter. You are wise and strong, and I have no doubt you will do great things.”

His words did little to calm the nerves boiling in the pit of her stomach, but she appreciated them nonetheless. “Thank you, Father,” she said, forcing her shoulders back. “I will try.”

“And you will succeed.” Joric nodded approvingly. “Shall we head for the city?”

The higher the sun rose, the darker the city’s shadow appeared, but she found herself nodding regardless. “Let’s go,” she said, reining her horse in the direction of the path. Her entire life had led to this moment--and she’d come too far to turn back now.


	2. The Enlistment

The Imperial Legion offices were housed in the city's prison district, and the atmosphere was fittingly stifling as Sabine stepped through the gates. It didn't help that her father was beside her in full armor, and the soldiers present immediately saluted as they passed. She hated the feeling of eyes on her, and although she knew their focus was on her father, she could shake the feeling that she was drawing attention as well. They had to wonder, didn't they, who the nameless girl walking beside the famed General Warhaft was. Or even worse, she thought miserably as she hurried after her father, it was immediately obvious that she was his daughter, and then she'd have a reputation to live up to.

But as they approached the central tower, Joric stopped and turned to her. "I have business in the Bastion. The Legion offices are that way," he said, pointing across the yard. "Go in the third door and tell them you are interested in joining. They will direct you from there."

"By myself?" Sabine felt her pulse quicken, but Joric merely raised his eyebrows, and she meekly nodded and turned in the direction he'd indicated. It was better this way, she told herself as she trudged across the yard. Without her father at her side she'd have a much better chance at avoiding unwanted attention. But her knees still shook as she entered the offices.

Inside, there was a small murmur of activity in the back of the room, but the soldier seated at the desk facing the door looked utterly bored, idley fiddling with the beads of an abacus. "Can I help you?" he asked, glancing up with eyebrows raised as she approached.

"I…" She swallowed hard, feeling her face go red as the words stuck in her throat. "I wanted to ask about joining. The Legion, I mean."

The soldier barely batted an eye, grunting as he turned to a stack of parchments on the desk. "Wait over there," he ordered brusquely, pointing at a bench along the wall. Sabine obeyed, carefully settling on it and gripping the tops of her knees to keep her hands from shaking.

The minutes ticked by, until finally he motioned her back over, quill in hand. The questions he asked were fairly straightforward, and she methodically rolled through the answers. Name: Sabine Rose Talin. Born in Hallin's Stand, Hammerfell under the sign of the Lord. Age: seventeen. Parents' names and occupations: Gisele, midwife; and Joric, soldier. She cringed a little at the last one, waiting for the inevitable follow-up, but miraculously, the soldier didn't seem to notice.

Finally, he set aside his quill and looked at her for the first time. "You seem healthy enough," he said, "but you'll be examined by a healer before we can proceed." He turned to call over his shoulder, his armor plates clanking together. "Davide!" The group in the back of the room didn't respond, and he shouted again. " _Davide!_ " This time, one of them finally glanced up, and the soldier rolled his eyes. "Take this recruit to the infirmary for an examination," he said stiffly. "Then I expect you back here right away.

"Yes, sir," Davide said quickly, heading for the door and motioning for Sabine to follow him.

" _Right away_ , Davide," the soldier was still calling as they exited. "No lollygaggin'"

"Infirmary's down around the other side, next to the armory," Davide explained as they strode across the yard. "You'll get the full tour eventually, I'm sure."

Sabine only nodded silently, breathing an inner sigh of relief when they reached the door. "Right through there," he explained. "Head back to the office as soon as you're done and we'll finish your registration." And then he was gone, and Sabine gathered her courage before pushing through the door.

The examination was speedy but thorough, and by the time the healer was handing her the signed papers affirming her clean bill of health, the evening shadows were stretching across the yard. Many of the buildings she scurried past were beginning to display illuminated windows, and when she re-entered the office, only the front desk was still occupied-albeit by a different soldier than earlier.

"Name?" he asked without looking up.

"Talin," she replied, extending the papers. "I was here earlier, I have the signature from the healer."

"Well, hand it over then." He still didn't look up as she placed them in his outstretched hand, and she cringed a little at the wrinkled sweat stains left by her fingers. But the soldier didn't seem to notice as he skimmed over them, and it was only when he pulled another stack from the desk that he gave pause. "Oh," he said, eyebrows rising. " _Oh._ " For the first time he looked up at her, interest flickering across his features. " _You're_  Talin?"

It was a statement, but it came out as a question, and she knew exactly what had prompted the question. Joric had been known as Warhaft long before he'd ever met her mother, but their family name was hardly a secret. It was right there in her records. Swallowing down a flare of adrenaline, she straightened her shoulders.

"Yes, sir," she said firmly, looking him in the eye as she enunciated the words. It was the only response she was obligated to give, she reminded herself. No further explanation necessary.

His mouth opened as if to press further, but mercifully he stayed silent, shaking his head as he scribbled out a signature. "Well then," he said. "Turns out we had your records on file, and everything else appears to be in order." He gathered the scattered sheets of parchment into a stack, then slid one final piece across the desk to her. "All we need now's a signature."

Sabine took the offered quill, wishing her hand wasn't trembling as she dipped it into the inkpot. And although she'd waited her whole life for this, she hesitated as the quill hovered above the parchment. This was really it. No turning back now. Once she signed, her life would no longer belong to her. Not really, anyway. Joric's words from earlier were ringing in her ears, and she suddenly felt herself breaking into a sweat. What if she'd been wrong? What if she wasn't cut out for this?

A glob of ink spattering onto the parchment recaptured her attention, and she instantly felt ashamed. Imagine how it would look, for the daughter of General Warhaft to sprint out of the Legion offices, having lost her nerve at the last second after a lifetime of preparation. And so with a deep breath to bolster her nerves, she put her quill to the parchment and signed.


	3. The Recruit

Sabine knew she was in trouble the moment the she stepped foot into the yard where the current recruits were gathering the following morning. The others were acquainted already, judging by the loosely clustered groups they formed as they laughed and joked amongst themselves. From her quick scan of the yard, they also appeared to be mainly Imperials, with maybe a Breton or an occasional Nord in the mix. And worst of all, she was the only girl.

Her bright red curls were braided tightly beneath her practice helm, but she still felt as obvious as a torch on a moonless night as she grimly fell in line with the others. As their instructor screamed for attention, she drew in a slow breath, forcing herself to stand straight and tall. She’d been prepared for this, but she still found herself fighting the instinct to cower away.

“All right, listen up!” he roared. “These next weeks will test your abilities and your mettle, and determine whether you are worthy to call yourself part of the Imperial Legion. You will be tested beyond anything you’ve ever experienced. If you think you’re prepared, you’ve already lost. I’ve seen countless seasoned warriors stand where you stand now, only to fail. What makes you think you’re any different?”

Although she knew the speech was intentionally intimidating to keep them on their toes, she could still feel the doubt beginning to seep back in. To spectacularly fail and be sent home in disgrace was the worst possible fate she could imagine, and she swallowed hard as the instructor's piercing eyes swept over her, forcing the fear back down where it belonged. For better or for worse, she was in the Legion now, and all she could do was fight tooth and nail to make the best of it.

“Davide!” the instructor was now shouting, and Sabine recognized the soldier from yesterday as he stepped up to the instructor's side. “Take them for their warmup.”

“Yes, sir!” Davide replied with a salute before turning to the group. “Recruits, follow me!” he called, and they all shuffled off behind him toward the front gates.

“You call that marching?” the instructor called behind them. “Pathetic!” She heard several huffs of dissatisfaction around her, but no one dare actually speak out loud.

Outside the gates, the stone bridge led off to the main hub of the city, but Davide led them off to the side onto the grass. “This footpath leads around the wall,” he called. “Go.” And with a shuffling clink of metal, they were off.

A few instantly stumbled, whether from the altered balance or the weight of the armor itself, and Sabine winced in sympathy as she jogged past. She silently thanked Joric for his insistence upon her wearing weights when she trained back at home--it was certainly paying off now. Out here, with her feet pounding on the soft grass and the birds chirping overhead, she could feel her earlier nerves beginning to dissipate. She was ready for this, and it’d been silly to worry.

She was in good shape, but even she was sweating and panting as they regrouped and filed back through the gates to the training yard. They were now moving on to sword training, and she instantly felt at ease once the weapon was in her hand, even though it was only a blunted practice blade. Swordplay was one thing she knew she was good at, and a tiny part of her was eager to show off her skills.

Her confidence rose as she stepped up to the training dummy, only to immediately be squashed back down as the instructor tore her to pieces. “You call that a strike?” he roared. “Where’s the force? Get that shield up! Keep those feet apart!”

But once the initial shock faded and the involuntary blur of tears dried from her eyes, all she felt was annoyance. She’d been watching the others, and she _knew_ she was leaps and bounds above them--at least of those she’d witnessed. _It’s how it is,_ she sternly reminded herself as she returned to the back of the line to await her next turn. _They’re always going to push for more._ You _have to push for more._

And so when her next turn came, she set her teeth and attacked the dummy with every ounce of ferocity she could muster. “Pathetic!” screeched the instructor, and she drew in a deep breath, forcing herself to ignore him as she set up her next blow. If she wasn't being given specific feedback, she couldn't take it to heart. Or at least not burst into tears over it.

The lunch break, when it arrived, was a momentary relief for her crashing spirits, but then her next challenge arrived full-force. Breakfast had been an apple scarfed down in between equipping pieces of her armor and dinner the night before had been with her father--this would be her first time eating in the dining hall. To make matters worse, it was packed full, the overwhelming din of noise and movement making her want to run for the door. Under normal circumstances she likely would have, but her half-hearted breakfast had not been enough to fuel her earlier training, and her stomach was rumbling fiercely. And so she reluctantly picked up a plate and joined the line.

The food was the expected fare--meat, boiled vegetables, a hunk of bread. Nothing like her family’s cooking back home, but the bland meal before her was the least of her concerns. The benches lining the tables were crowded with soldiers, and she desperately scanned for an opening.

But as luck would have it, she noticed a mostly-empty table in a far corner and a lone member  of her training class--and among the tight-knit clans, a solitary individual stood out. Steeling her spine, she forced up her chin walked over. “Hi,” she said, setting her plate down across from him. “May I sit here?”

The boy gave a vague scoff of acknowledgement, and her stomach turned over on itself as she settled onto the bench. Maybe this had been a mistake--he clearly had no interest in socializing. But it was only when she heard a raucous swell of voices and a collective of armored bodies swooped in and settled around her like vultures that she realized her grievous error.

“Mido’s useless.” The boy who plunked down on the opposite side of the table was already chewing, spitting the words out around a mouthful of bread. “My brothers served with him up north and said he had the weakest shield arm he’d ever seen. If we’re stuck with him the whole time, we’re as good as done already.”

“I thought the assignment was permanent,” one of his companions remarked, but the boy rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Maybe not. Uncle Tatius’ on the Elder Council now. I can always talk to him. See what he can do. But if not...” He shrugged. “There’s other ways to get rid of him.”

The boys all snickered, and beneath the table, her hand curled into a fist. She needed to get away from this as quickly as possible, but she was blurting the words out before she could stop herself. “You can’t say that.”

They were still laughing as the ringleader finally looked at her for the first time. “Oh?” he chortled. “Why’s that?” It was a perfectly innocuous question, but she could have sworn she detected a hint of a sneer behind it. He was almost certainly mocking her, and she felt the blood rushing to her face, but she pushed on regardless.

“Conspiring against a superior. Even if it’s a joke. If the wrong person hears, you’ll be discharged from the Legion. You could even go to prison.”

The boy appeared undeterred, confidently staring her down from across the table. “Is that so?” He spoke nonchalantly, but a cold shiver ran down her spine. The others were murmuring among themselves, and she fought the urge to flee.

“I’m just letting you know,” she said quickly. “Just be careful what you say in public. That’s all.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed, and a wide, savage grin spread across his face as the others began to snicker. “Edwyn, who _is_ this?,” he asked the table’s original occupant, and her stomach began to churn as his cold, dead-eyed stare turned to her.

“Don’t know,” he said flatly. “She just sat down and started talking to me.”

Her face flamed as they burst into uproarious laughter. Vision blurring, she collected her plate and her helmet with shaking hands and scrambled up from the table. They only laughed harder as she jostled against them, but she ignored it, keeping her head down and striding determinedly toward the door.

Outside, she allowed a few tears to drip freely before angrily dashing them away. She’d spent years preparing, hacking away at training dummies and reading every book she could get her hands on about battle strategies. But this...this was another matter altogether, and entirely unexpected.

_I want to go home._

The thought sprang from nowhere, unbidden, and she found herself glancing around guiltily as though passersby could sense her treachery. What would Joric think? _Stop it!_ she ordered herself sternly, drawing in a breath as she clenched her jaw.

She was meant to be a Legionnaire. Even since childhood, she’d never wanted anything else. Unexpected challenges went with the territory--but the more she repeated it, the more hollow it rang. What if, after everything, she wasn't cut out for this after all?


End file.
